Page 111 of Dick Stone, Regency Stud
“But not your father, who drowned in a cesspit.” Goodness, her family had a tendency to drown in unlikely things. He’d need to keep her away from moats and the like.
“That’s right,” she said, grabbing another piece of bread. Seeing her eat so heartily warmed his heart; demme the ladylike nibbling he’d taught her.
He didn’t protest when she brought up his treason case, much as it wilted his otherwise interested cock.
“So we’ve tossed the Portuguese cove,” she said, waving a well-buttered slice of bread.
“Theouvidor, yes.”
“And Camville because you didn’t stick your piece in his wife,” she said.
“That’s correct. The major’s mother-in-law prevented what could have been a very enjoyable interlude,” he sniffed.
“So that leaves…”
“The Honourable Colonel Henry Giffard and Lord Blount,” said Edward, wanting to sigh at this bothersome treason nonsense ruining a perfectly pleasant meal by the fire.
“And did you maybe not rogerbothof their wives? Maybe just one?” she asked hopefully.
“Unlikely,” he said. “I now recall that Lady Blount had a bush the color of her carrot hair and Mrs. Giffard liked to wail so loudly that I had to cover her mouth the whole time or else her children’samawould come running.”
“So it’s likely to be one of those two men,” she mused.
“Or women,” he replied, ever realistic about the abilities of women. He’d long admired them for their less bloodthirsty talents, but he wasn’t so silly as to think only a man couldconcoct a false treason charge. Why, a lady might orchestrate such a thing quite efficiently because of the tendency of men to overlook her.
“So we’ll need to focus our efforts there,” she said, packing slices of bread into her reticule. Her fine new handkerchiefs were now employed in protecting the remains of the loaf, and he wondered what — if any — monogram Molly the Buckskin Breechess had selected for Tabby’s linens.
Then she stood from her place and whisked the silver flask from his breast pocket, filling it from the pitcher she’d requested. She looked up from her industrious labors and flashed him a smile.
“Don’t forget about this. I stole it for you,” she said. “Keep my cods at the ready, won’t ya?”
He was in love. It was new to him, but there was no mistaking it now that he realized what it meant when the ache in his ribs eased when she was near. He was desperately, ostentatiously gone for Tabitha Brewer.
“Say, Tabby,” he said as they rose to return to the carriage. “Come to my room at the inn tonight after Mrs. Harfagre falls asleep. I’ve been meaning to give you something.”
“What’s that?” she asked, looking back at him.
He brought her hand to his reinvigorated piece, which jumped at the feel of her fingers.
“Oh my, Dick Stone, you certainly are hard,” she whispered while slanting him a sly glance.
The minx!
Chapter 8
The problem arose onthe second night of their journey.
Tabby, ever slippery as those eels she liked to eat, had yet again slid from her shared room — with exhausted Mrs. Harfagre none the wiser.
Following several minutes of frantic kissing and the near rending of good tailoring, Edward and Tabby were skin to skin and desperate to fuck after a long day of merely sending heated glances at each other across the carriage.
It was when he reached for the soaking French letter that tragedy struck.
Edward had been rinsing the letter after each fuck so it could be ready for battle, but this time he pulled a shredded mess fromthe water. The ties and seams appeared to have given way after so much hard use.
Tabby had been on the bed, stroking her kitty in that tentative way that never failed to set his blood rushing. She watched him try to tie the damn thing on.
“Ah, fuck,” he said, peeling the well-used sheath from his ready cock.
